


Suddenly, at Samhain

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Samhain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-14
Updated: 1999-03-14
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray goes along with Fraser's plans for Halloween and discovers that this night is also Samhain--the Wiccan New Year.





	Suddenly, at Samhain

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Suddenly, at Samhain

**General. Holiday.** When my friend Katherine Fox asked me what my co-religionists and I actually do at Samhain, I started thinking about what we did last year. Then I wondered--what would it have been like if our favorite characters from Alliance had been present? And when my friend Angela Rivieccio E-mailed me that she wished Ray had been one of the players in my last story, "Showdown in Chicago," I started doodling this little tale that seems to tie it all together. So for Kat, and Angela, and all the many Ray fans out there, this is for you and you and you. 

# Suddenly, at Samhain

**by**

### Diana Read

* * *

"I don't see why you're being so cagey, Fraser. What could you possibly  
be doing on Halloween that's such a secret?"

Vecchio leaned back in his chair and looked at the Mountie, who stood in front of Ray's desk, holding his Stetson, inscrutable as always. Fraser raised an eyebrow. 

"Ray, I'd be happy to include you in my plans for that evening, but I'm afraid you'd be offended. It's a religious ceremony, and, ah--it's not your religion." 

"So? I'm as broad-minded as the next guy." Ray grinned. "I've got broads on my mind all the time." 

Fraser blinked. "Well, there will be plenty of women present. In fact, the ritual will be conducted by a woman." 

"A woman priest? What kinda religion is this--one of those granola-crunching, tree-hugging, Goddess-worshipping--" 

"--exactly. Well, I'd be delighted to take you along, if you'd like to be an observer. You don't have to participate, you know, but you would just have to keep quiet while the rest of us go through the ritual. I mean, you can't start objecting to things after we get there." 

"No problem. I'm not doing anything else that night. And anyway, Fraser, I didn't object to the sweat lodge, did I? I actually kinda enjoyed it. So did Louise, if memory serves me correctly." 

Ray got up, went around the corner of his desk, and gave Fraser a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You underestimate the extent of my tolerance, Benny. C'mon, let's go grab some lunch." 

* * * * * * * * *  


"This thing's outdoors in the dark? We're not gonna be in some nice, warm building with this woman priest and all those other broads you talked about?" 

"I'm afraid not, Ray. Look, here's the entrance to Four Quarters farm." 

Vecchio slowed the Riv as Fraser switched on the flashlight to check the map in his hand. "Right, here's the farm and there should be a gravel parking area to the left, inside the gate." 

"Yeah, here we are. Look, there's someone waving us in. Hey, Dief--wouldja stop panting in my ear? We'll let you out of the car in just a minute." 

After Ray parked the car, they got out, locking the doors behind them, and approached the gate. Ray stopped to peer at a piece of paper nailed to the wooden slats. "Fraser--what's the word on this sign?" 

"Samhain, Ray. We're attending a Samhain ritual tonight." 

"Well, if it's spelled Sam Hane, why're you pronouncing it like it rhymes with wowin'?" 

"That's just the way it is, Ray. Think about how the word 'Leftenant' is spelled, for instance. If you were going back to the roots of that word, it would be the French word 'lieu' for place--" 

"Okay, okay, Fraser, I get the idea. Nothin's gonna make sense tonight. Now what?" 

Fraser approached a guide who stood along the path holding a lantern, waving them on. "Go on down to the bonfire, that's where we're gathering first," the man said. "Blessed be." 

The night held a faint chill, with clouds chasing each other across the face of the waning moon. There was just enough light to make out the silhouettes of the people standing around the fire that blazed in the hollow of a little hill. Ray sniffed the air: rain was not far away. _I'm getting as bad as Benny, smelling things. Before you know it, I'm gonna be down on all fours, tasting this grass...._

When they arrived at the bonfire, Ray noticed that one cloaked, hooded figure was walking slowly around the perimeter of the hollow, holding one arm above her head. 

"What's going on, Benny?" Ray was careful to keep his voice to a whisper. "What's that in her hand?" 

"That's the priestess. She's holding an _athame_ \--a ritual knife," Fraser whispered back. 

The priestess finished her walk around the fire and stood still. "By all that is above and all that is below," she intoned in a clear, thrilling voice, "the circle is cast. We are between the worlds." 

Her hood fell back, revealing her face. Ray stood rooted to the ground, mouth open. " _Dragon Lady?_ She's the _priestess_?" 

"Hush, Ray. And please don't call her that. She has the Goddess in her now." 

Ray subsided, impressed. It was true that Inspector Meg Thatcher--he couldn't stop thinking of her as he knew her in her worldly role--wore a look of exaltation. The firelight lit her face, showing the Goddess-spirit shining in her dark eyes. She looked so beautiful he wasn't surprised that Benny was gazing at her with something very like adoration. 

Meg raised her arms skyward. "Friends, before we go into the spiral dance, let us cast into the flames all the attitudes and qualities that we would like to discard on this last day of the old year. Tomorrow, November first, is New Year's Day, when we begin again to follow the Wheel of the Year as it turns in the heavens I'll begin." 

Stepping closer to the fire, she made a casting motion with her hands toward the flames. "Tonight I would cast to the flames all the prejudice against our kind, worshippers of the Great Mother, practitioners of the Craft of the Wise. For three hundred years we were hunted, tortured, burned--now let us worship safely forevermore!" 

"Blessed be," echoed the listeners around the fire. The wood hissed and popped as the flames leaped high, curling over and under the logs. The fragrance of woodsmoke pervaded the air. 

"And on a personal level..." Meg looked around and smiled. "...I cast away my tendency to be sharp-tongued with those that don't deserve it. Into the flames, begone, forevermore!" 

"Blessed be." 

Ray wondered if this meant poor Fraser would henceforth escape the tongue-lashings his superior officer had given him in the past. He watched in bemusement as one by one the coveners stepped forward and metaphorically cast disease, race hatred, war, and world hunger into the flames, along with their personal failings. No way was he going to join this confessional. Anything he wanted to get rid of was between him and his parish priest. 

Then Fraser stepped forward. "Tonight I would cast to the flames all the prejudice toward predators, such as wolves. In the endless cycle of birth, death, and rebirth, predators are the Great Mother's way of retaining the balance of nature. And on a personal level, I cast away my tendency to avoid discussing my innermost feelings. Into the flames, begone, forevermore!" 

Funny, Ray thought. Fraser and Dief were so much a part of his life that he accepted the man-and-wolf combination as completely natural. It had been a long time since he'd felt any fear of Dief. 

Everyone was looking at him. Ray hesitated: he wasn't sure he wanted to join in this weirdness. But glancing at Fraser, who was regarding him with affection, he thought, _What the hell, I might as well._ He stepped forward, thankful that the flames had died down sufficiently that their flickering light would not reveal his face. "Tonight I would cast to the flames all the prejudice against cops who're just trying to do their job and keep the city safe. And on a personal level, I cast away...my tendency to feel guilty about things that have nothin' to do with me. Into the flames, begone, forevermore!" 

After everyone had spoken, Meg took charge again. "I would remind you that on this night, the last night of the old year, the veil between the worlds is very thin. If those who have gone before wish to contact you, they will do it now. As we dance and chant, let your mind open up to receive their messages, if any. Remember the hundreds of thousands of innocent martyrs who died in the flames during the Burning Times. Think of your ancestors, or those you have loved, who have gone before. They wait for you to join them in the Summerland, which some call the Isle of Apples, or Avalon, in the West. Blessed be." 

To the soft rhythm of a single drum, Meg turned and led the way out of the fire circle, her cloak billowing behind her as a sudden shift in the night wind caught it. 

Fraser looked down at Dief. "Stay." 

Dief growled softly, but lay down obediently near the fire and seemed prepared to doze off. Ray and Fraser followed the others uphill to a clearing, while the drum throbbed softly in the darkness and the wind rustled through the trees. 

"Hey, Fraser, what are we doin' now?" Ray whispered. 

"We're going to do a spiral dance," Fraser whispered back. "During the spiral sooner or later you'll come face to face with everyone here at least once, or even more, depending on how long we keep it up." 

In the clearing, as the clouds first concealed, then revealed the waning moon, the worshippers joined hands and began the slow, twisting movements of the spiral dance. As they moved, they sang the words of the chant over and over, to the beat of the drum. 

_On the same_  
Wheel we spin  
Into life and out again--  
One is many, many one,  
Brewing in Her cauldron.  


The repetitiveness of chant and dance combined began to blot out everything else from Ray's consciousness. He was scarcely aware of Fraser's warm, firm hand holding his left hand, or of the small, soft hand of the woman who held his right. The words the priestess had spoken echoed somewhere in his head: _They wait for you to join them in the Summerland, which some call the Isle of Apples, or Avalon, in the West._

The Isle of Apples...Avalon... Suddenly his mind's eye was filled with a warm, golden light, like that of a fine sunset. His spirit, freed of its earthly constraints, soared into the light and entered a state of utter contentment. The light wavered, thickened, took form. Ray's father suddenly appeared, looking very much as he had in late middle age, the time of his journey into the next world. Then Ray became conscious of words flooding into his mind. 

_Hello, son. Nice of you to come visit me here._

_Pop? What're you doin' here? I thought you were in Purgatory._

_No, son. I did my time and got out of there. I'm here now, and it's a lot better._

_Yeah, I can see it would be. Well, how's it going, Pop?_

_Great, son. Lissen, I want you to know I'm proud of you. I never found the words to tell you that when I should've. You've been a fine son. And I'm proud that you've made it into the ranks of Chicago's finest._

_Gee, Pop, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. If this is what being dead does for a person--_

_I've got to go now, Raimondo. Give my love to your mother and the girls._

The feeling of warmth and peace faded and he came back to earth. He could feel a cool wind blowing across his face, hear the crunch of dead leaves under his feet. Around him the chanting went on, with the drum beating a slow, steady rhythm. He was caught up in the dance, twisting in and out of the spiral for what seemed a long time, until the chanting died away and the spiral straightened into a line that began to wind down the hill to where the embers of the bonfire glowed in the fire pit. At their approach, Dief sat up and wagged his tail. 

Although Ray felt physically present in his body once more, his mind was still adrift in an ocean of images...of apples and sunsets, of the long light summer days of his boyhood, of his father coming home from work in the evenings, only to ignore him. He hardly heard the closing words of the ritual as Meg thanked the spirits of the four quarters for their attendance this night. 

"Stay if you will,  
Go if you must--  
Hail and farewell."  


"Hail and farewell," murmured the worshippers in unison. 

"The circle is open, but unbroken. May the peace of the Goddess go in our hearts; merry meet..." 

"...merry part, and MERRY MEET AGAIN!" the worshippers chorused. 

"Well, it's over, Ray. What did you think?" Fraser spoke quietly, under the burst of chatter that now arose. 

Ray was watching the priestess and two of her helpers douse the fire with pails of water. "It was different. Out of this world, to tell you the truth. Actually, I kinda liked it." 

"I'm glad." Fraser heaved a sigh of what might have been relief. "Then you don't feel you've done anything wrong by coming here tonight?" 

"Nope! I feel great." 

And in fact, now that the fire was destroyed, Ray suddenly realized how light he felt, how free. _The guilt is gone. When my old man spoke to me in the Isle of Apples, he said he was proud of me for being a cop. I don't feel guilty any more for not being good enough, for not being a hero in his eyes. He said I was a fine son. I'm free of that old garbage I was carrying around._

Suddenly, at Samhain, his New Year had begun. And it promised to be good. 

****

The End 

* * *

*Copyright October 1996 by Diana Read on all original story content. Not meant to infringe on copyrights held by Alliance Communications, or any other copyright holders for DUE SOUTH. Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading use without written consent of the author. Comments welcome at. 

* * *


End file.
